Gulf of Mexico
USA Central time 12:45 a.m.
Gray leaned against the bulkhead and peered out the window at the water below. Under the full moon the surface of the Gulf appeared to shimmer beneath a silvery glaze. The weather report had warned that a hurricane was just beginning to whip up southern waters down by Cuba, but it didn’t appear the outer reaches had touched the major area of the Gulf as yet.
He hoped the weather would hold off until everyone was out of harm’s way and safely aboard. Avoiding chaos and danger was always high on Gray’s list of preferables.
The tiltrotor had been in the air for less than fifteen minutes. They wouldn’t arrive for another three hours at best. He knew the CIMA-2 team was the best in the CIB, and he had every confidence they would be there when he arrived. Still, he was finding it difficult to put it all out of his mind. He needed to sleep while he could. He would be needed when they reached the target area.
But what if they weren’t there? What if he arrived too late to save them?
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